Lu Bu

Black and grey descend upon the plain. In the shadows of falling mists that cling to the hills, Lü Bu appears. He stands apart, a folded shadow, sublime fog at the end of battle. Nearly dead, once the most feared man of the Empire, son of iron and fire, betrayed by his own and traitor to the Kingdom, he is consumed by his own legend.

In a dense, dark, and magnetic perfume, Sora Dora marks his rebirth today. Like an olfactory scar, the effluvia- direct, almost metallic- opens on a vivid, tannic clove, sketching in their trail the acridity of blood on a still-warm blade. When the heart beats louder, between the first shock and silence, a strip of Armenian paper burns while iris, noble and powdery, whispers the hero’s solitude.

More than glory and power, Lü Bu speaks of sacrifice and memory. A fragrance like an oath. One that does not seek to please. One that chooses you as a weapon chooses its warrior. Loyal to all who carry their shadows with pride. Whose presence is an epitaph. Whose silence is a declaration.

To your battles.